Days Like Today
by AddisonRules
Summary: A post-ep for 2x06. Good soldiers fell today. Coulson and May face another loss the best way they know how - together. Spoilers through ep. 2x06.


Still don't own anything. Just taking the characters out for a spin and some angst.

* * *

><p>The phone rings and Coulson knows who it is. It's the direct line only May uses. The relief he feels is short-lived.<p>

"May."

"We have the HYDRA team in custody. But they beat us to the house."

Her voice is calm, the information clear, but the tone speaks to him of the scene at the safe house… the lives lost, the fight that followed, and of the darkness the day has resurrected for her.

"How many?" he asks, even if the number is irrelevant, really. Any loss is too great now, their ranks too low, the surviving members of SHIELD whittled down to the bare bones.

"Six. Reynolds, Haslett, Gabriel, Smithers, Dean, and... we lost Walters, too. There's… she was hit with a splinter bomb. There's no body for her family to claim."

The words sink in and Phil begins the mental list of phone calls he needs to make. His fallen deserve no less than for their families to hear the awful news from him.

"Get home safe."

He wants to say more than that, but he knows she's got cleanup and Talbot to deal with and they both need a moment to absorb this latest hit because that house wasn't full of strangers. He'd worked with Walters while she was training to be a team leader. Gabriel and Dean had used respect and silence to garner sparring time with May in the mornings before she headed to that awful little cubicle where Bahrain had trapped her. These weren't their people in name only, and it hurt.

She doesn't respond to his words, and he isn't surprised. They have grim work to do. And because it's the way things are, everything that might need to be said between them will be set aside to wait.

Coulson can't help the deep sigh that escapes him as he leans his head in his hands for a moment. Time has become such a tenuous beast in their lives. When they were younger, new field agents running around wreaking havoc in the world, Phil and Melinda had felt a little invincible. The years brought the first loss of a friend in combat… Zeke Heller, Coulson's sparring partner before May had taken over that job – and they'd wracked up injuries and near misses and learned the difference between being cocky and being confident.

They were seasoned vets, names on a go-to list that Fury called as needed, by the time Bahrain rocked both Phil and Melinda to their cores… her from what she'd had to see and do, him from watching the devastation that day left behind in his best friend.

From the day he convinced her to join him on the Bus, it had felt like the old days to Phil. Melinda was the woman she'd evolved into over the past few years, but she was also the agent he trusted most in the world, and having her back at his side, having her in every fight with him renewed some of that youthful idealism for Coulson as they crossed the globe with their new team.

Then their world had shattered.

It was hard to know which nightmarish turn had taken the biggest toll on them, Ward's betrayal, HYDRA, or the realization that GH-325 had begun to unravel its harmful side effects within Phil's body. The sum total was a mountain that, on some days, felt impossible to climb.

But every day they found a way – Coulson and May, together – to take another step forward, even when the setbacks were as devastating as today.

With that thought in his mind, Coulson opened up his contacts and prepared to call Walters' family. May had done her part, facing the evil that was trying to crush them. Now it was time for him to do what came next.

* * *

><p>Morse and Hunter are fairly quiet and look like they could sleep for a week. That more than anything tells Coulson his instincts about how bad Bruges was are accurate.<p>

"Where's May?" he asks as casually as possible. Bobbi nods back toward the Bus.

"Running a diagnostic. Simmons went to check on her."

Coulson nods and wonders if that's Simmons being a mother hen or May needing medical attention and not wanting anyone else to know.

"You two should go get checked out. We can debrief after."

"We didn't take on Scarlotti," Hunter offers with a hint of admiration in his voice. "By the time Bobbi and I got there, May already had him down. And that bastard is mean. Seeing him on the ground made me glad all she did was shoot me in the bulletproof vest."

Coulson's gut tightens at the vision that comes into his head. Scarlotti was the one hurling splinter bombs at the U.N., the one who almost took out Talbot. The idea of May racing after him alone, of how vulnerable she might have been…

He curls his hand into a fist to keep from racing up the cargo ramp of the Bus. May is fine… home, in one piece, and Simmons is checking on her. He has to stay focused.

"Okay then, why don't you two come upstairs? You can tell me everything that went down."

The former couple fall into step behind him, and Phil fights the urge to turn back toward the plane.

How many times can he send her out into danger before she doesn't come home?

And what the hell happens to his team… to SHIELD… if he outlives Melinda May?

* * *

><p>Talbot releases the video from the U.N. attack almost as soon as the general leaves Bruges with the HYDRA assassins in custody.<p>

"You should know what you're up against. I've seen it in person, and… it's unlike any weapon I've come across."

Hours after the team's return, May still hasn't sought him out, so Coulson watches the video. He sees the horrifying effect of the splinter bomb and he thinks of Walters, betrayed and outnumbered, watching death come at her in the shape of the terrible disc.

He stops the video, stands and leaves his office. He walks the Playground in search of her and stops when he finds May in the kitchen having tea with Skye. He should've guessed that's what had kept her occupied. Skye looks lighter for the time she's spent with her S.O., more at ease than she has been since news of Ward's escape reached them. Ward… yet another danger lurking in the shadows around them.

Skye sees him and smiles slightly, standing up from her seat before she glances back at May.

"I have some work to get back to. See you in the morning?"

May nods and Skye takes her tea and exits. Coulson doesn't move closer to the woman he's sought out, though, because she pushes her tea aside, grabs a bottle of Scotch from below the counter, two glasses, and walks past him toward the Bus.

When they stop walking, they're in the pilot's bunk. It's the one place besides his office that they can garner some privacy, and Phil doesn't blame Melinda for not wanting to be anywhere near the walls he carves or the cabinet that holds the gun he makes her keep handy in case he ever crosses a line he can't come back from.

She sits on the floor, back against the bed, and starts pouring. Phil sinks down beside her and takes the glass she offers. The Scotch burns his throat… he hasn't been drinking much since the episodes started… but tonight it feels necessary.

"Talbot's finally seen the light," she says, voice flat. "I guess that's something."

He nods, because it is something even if the cost was too high. Talbot is an ally now. They don't have to waste any more time convincing him they want to do the same thing he does – protect the world from HYDRA. And being able to hand Scarlotti and company over to the government frees them to focus on finding a way to get close to Whitehall.

May drinks half her glass of Scotch and leans her head back against the bed, eyes falling shut. He can see how tired she is… the past few days have taken forever to end… and he fights the urge to reach out and brush his hand against her cheek.

"I'm tired of not knowing who to trust."

The words are as close to surrender as he's ever heard her come, and it breaks his heart a little because May anywhere near hopeless feels like the end of the world to him.

"You'd have been proud of them today," he says, trying to draw her away from the blackness of Bruges. "The way Fitz and Trip and Skye all stood tall in Ward's face. And Simmons… she reminded me a little of you."

That makes the faintest hint of a smile pull at her lips.

"You think he'll go directly after his brother?" she asks, eyes still closed.

"I do. But hopefully Ward out in the world does what we need it to. We have to find out what we're facing with Skye's father. Now that we know the son of a bitch gave the obelisk to Whitehall, that has to mean he's getting something in return."

May turns and looks at him, eyes open, head still resting on the bed. Despite the exhaustion he can read in her body, she looks so young to him there… hair still drying from her post-mission shower, body draped in an old SHIELD t-shirt she stole from him years ago and a pair of leggings.

"Skye's worried one of them will hurt the team. I'm not sure who she's more afraid of, Ward or her father. I promised her I wouldn't let that happen."

Phil turns his body then, facing her, and he leans his head against the bed so their eyes are locked with one another's.

"You have to be here to keep that promise."

Melinda narrows her eyes, then realizing, she shrugs.

"Scarlotti was on his own. Hunter and Morse had a roomful. That's just how it played out."

This close to her, Phil can see a small slash mark on her arm peeking out from the sleeve of the t-shirt. It won't scar. Her wounds somehow never do, even when he stitches them closed in the middle of a jungle with twine.

They never scar her skin, but he always worries about how many her soul can endure before there's no piecing it back together.

"He came at me with a knife," she says, catching him staring. "Nothing serious."

But Phil can imagine it serious… and it's not the knife that has his heart in his throat. The idea of her gone… not even a body to bury… a pile of ashes and dust all that's left of her…

Coulson doesn't even know he's crying till she reaches out and wipes the tear from his cheek. He catches her hand in his and pulls it against his chest, the rough edges of his scar scratching at his skin. Melinda moves toward him then, glasses pushed out of the way, her hand coming to rest against his cheek.

"I don't want to outlive you, Phil, but I will. I can't let you die worried about them. So I promise, I won't die first."

It's such a terrible thing to make her swear to – almost as terrible as the other vow she made for his sake. Among the list of reasons he prays he's wrong, that he hopes somehow this isn't leading toward his end, is that he wants so badly to find a way to make it up to her, asking for such loyalty when he knows she can't refuse.

If he survives, he'll find a way. That's Phil's vow to himself.

"But I won't stop trying to save you," Melinda adds, her thumb ghosting over his skin. He smiles at that and kisses the hand he's been holding on to for dear life.

The silence sits there between them until Melinda rises, her hands pulling free from his hold to clear the glasses and the bottle and put them on the table across the room. When she throws back the blankets on her bunk and climbs in, Phil doesn't hesitate to follow.

"I want to write a note to Gabriel and Dean's families, if you don't mind." Her voice is low, but he's facing her, both of them on their sides.

"Of course."

"They made it out of the Triskelion. Fought with Sharon to help the loyalists escape."

Phil knows. When they'd first started establishing contact with lost agents, it was Sharon Carter who'd helped them find Gabriel and Dean. The idea that they survived such a terrible day to die the way they did in Bruges seems the definition of unjust.

But there will be more deaths. They both know it. All they can do is honor the ones who fall by continuing their mission.

Phil watches as Melinda allows herself to drift off, the comfort of his presence as much a balm as hers is to him. He's grateful she can find solace in him because Phil has no idea how he'd endure all this without her.

He closes his eyes and tries to let sleep claim him.

When he wakes to a vision of Melinda disappearing into a haze of ash, his eyes seek her out, alive and beside him, her own nightmares drawing a furrow in her brow.

Phil lies back down and inches closer to her, his hand finally drawing down against her cheek. She nestles into his touch, and it lifts his heart out of the aching abyss that had taken hold.

Good soldiers fell today. More will follow. But they're still in the fight, together. It's all Phil could really ask for in any battle, and he closes his eyes, determined to be grateful that Melinda is still at his side.


End file.
